Pulse Without A Past

chapter 1

Queensferry, Edinburgh, Scotland

Queensferry is a picturesque, historic town on the Firth of Forth near Edinburgh, Scotland, famous for its views of three iconic bridges (Forth Bridge, Forth Road Bridge, and Queensferry Crossing).

It serves as a popular tourist destination, cruise port, and commuter town with a charming, narrow main street, independent shops, and restaurants.

With the vibes of picturesque landmarks, it gives people around the world a destination to settle for a lifetime. The property prices are high, but the quality of life can beat any tier-one city around the globe.

With occasional chaos and drama here and there, the place is a perfect blend of coastal charm and suburban comfort.

In this Queensferry town near the Forth Bridge is a shop named Anchor & Key. The shop is very old—around 70 years old. The shop stands proudly, like a king on his throne, years after being built.

Despite being an old building, it has a character. A story... and beyond all of it, there is a charm in this shop that nobody can resist. Somehow, due to its charm, this shop has become a "must-visit" for tourists.

The shop did not belong to the modern world of glass and neon. It sat hunched at the base of a salt-crusted stone tenement in South Queensferry, looking as though it had been carved directly from the damp Scottish earth.

Above the recessed oak door, a heavy timber sign groaned under the weight of its own history. It bore the image of a rusted anchor entwined with a skeleton key—a silent promise that here, things lost could be held, and things locked could be opened.

It smelled of metal, old wood, and the oil used to fix machines. It was very quiet, but it was not silent. On every wall, there were old clocks from ships. Some were big and some were small.

They all ticked at different times. The sound felt like a hundred tiny hearts beating at once. It was a mechanical pulse that filled the room.

The front window was a single, thick pane of bubbled glass, coated in a fine, translucent film of dried sea salt. It blurred the world inside, turning the treasures within into jagged, unrecognizable shadows.

At the very back of the shop, there was a large, scratched wooden desk. A single lamp with a green shade sat on it, shining a bright light on a pile of broken metal parts.

This was where the work happened. The desk was covered in tiny tools, small screws, and pieces of clocks that had been taken apart.

There were no bright lights or colorful signs here. The shop felt like a place where things were kept so they wouldn't be forgotten. It was a place for things that were broken or lost.

In the middle of all this metal and wood sat Cora. She didn't look up when the door opened. She just kept working on a small brass object, her fingers covered in dark oil. To her, everything in the shop had a history.

She didn't even look up from her workbench. She kept working, waiting for the person to talk.

Cora Murray, age 30, a native of Queensferry town, is the proud parent of this shop. The shop was originally owned by Cora's grandmother, her Nana Elspeth Murray.

Elspeth and her husband had built the shop in their early 30s. The shop is a two-story building, with the ground floor serving as the shop and the 1st floor being the attached residence for the owners.

Her Nana passed away eight months ago. From then on, Cora was left alone. With nobody else left around to be with, she spends all her time in the shop rather than the home upstairs.

She cried a lot when her Nana passed away. From childhood onwards, it was just her and her Nana. Her mama died with her little sibling during childbirth . She was just five. Crying for her mother and tightly clutching the hands of her nana at the hospital.

Her dad, although he tried to be there for Cora, was so absolutely heartbroken by the death of his wife and unborn child that he too died after one year.

From then on, it was just her and her Nana, Elspeth. Elspeth tried to shield little Cora as much as she could. She would hold her tightly to her chest while little Cora cried for her parents and sibling, even when Elspeth was grieving herself for the loss of her children and grandchild.

But for the sake of Cora, she held herself and her emotions. Soon, she became everything for Cora.

When you lose your parents at such an early age, you become more attached to the only person who is there for you.

Therefore, Elspeth was the only person in little Cora's life. Her whole life revolved around her Nana. After school break, she would come running from school just to hug her Nana and follow her around their shop until evening.

And in between, Elspeth would freshen her up, feed her, teach her, help with homework, and at night, together they would go to the upper floor to sleep only after closing the shop and checking the doorknobs twice.

After that she would tell Cora stories about queensferry and it's history and various mysterious places around here.

They weren't affluent or wealthy at all, but the sales from the shop were good enough for both of them to survive. Life was good for most of the time—unless something happens in their town.

It had been five minutes, but the person who entered hadn't spoken a word yet. "Maybe another tourist enamored with the shop," Cora thought.

Cora couldn't keep working, knowing someone was there in the shop, and not be curious about their silence.

Finally, she looked up from her work desk only to face Fred.

His face looked disturbed. His clothes were wrinkled, his eyes were hollow, and both hands were fidgeting with each other. He looked as if he couldn't decide what he should do.

"Hi, Fred!" Cora said to him as he still didn't utter a word, her own voice rough. She hadn't spoken for ten hours.

"C... Cora... He... he's... no more!"